


Meet and Advice

by Searece



Series: Memories and Times [19]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:31:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searece/pseuds/Searece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't think the title fits... Enjoy Prowl and Jazz meeting in war time. Questions? Comments? Don't be scared; I'd love to hear it all!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Meet and Advice

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think the title fits... Enjoy Prowl and Jazz meeting in war time. Questions? Comments? Don't be scared; I'd love to hear it all!

"Commander Prowl!"

Prowl looked up curiously at the call of his designation. A silver and black mech trotted towards him. He recognized the mech as Jazz, a Special Operations' agent of varying talents. The only reason he knew that was because he helped plan the mech's missions.

"May I help you?" he asked tiredly, not that anybody noticed. He was quite busy, but as this was a SpecOps mech, he couldn't exactly ignore the other.

"Yes," and here the mech was all smiles, "but I was wondering if I could speak to you aside or in private?"

Prowl walked to the side of the room, motioning for the other to follow him. "What is it you need?"

"Actually," Jazz grew a bit more serious, but his smile didn't completely disappear. It irritated Prowl yet at the same time he liked it. "I wanted to give you a bit of advice."

Prowl's expression flattened. This silly, too-happy mech wanted to give him advice? What on Cybertron about?!

"I've reviewed the public records about battles and whatnot," and Prowl found that strange word to be unbearably cute when spoken from the Ops mech's plump lips, and Primus, what was wrong with him? "and I have a suggestion for you."

Jazz lifted a servo to stall the protests he could imagine forming on Prowl's lips. "Ah'm not gonna tell ya 'ow ta do yar job," he cleared his throat to rid it of the sudden, incomprehensible accent, "but maybe you should smile more. I know the troops would be encouraged; you probably know the rumors about yourself. They think you're some emotionless drone or a mech who's suppressed his emotional protocols. I'm just saying that you smiling a bit more, taking your energon with them instead of in private, would probably cause them to follow and respect you more."

The tiny pause and shrug Jazz gave wasn't enough time for Prowl to squeeze in any words. "And besides, I think you'd look quite handsome if you smiled."

Immediately, Jazz trotted away without giving Prowl a chance to respond. The smaller counted himself lucky hat nobody else could heard the pounding of his spark in his chest.

Prowl just stood there in stunned silence as he watched the other leave.

* * *

Silence reigned in the rec room as they stared at the doorway. Prowl stood there, back straight and face solidly emotionless, yet inwardly awkward as he walked into the room. It wasn't like him to feel so awkward. Maybe it was because he was severely out of his element.

He walked over to the dispenser, gliding forward with soundless steps. The silence continued around him as he grabbed his energon cube and walked back toward the door. His sensory panels twitched down when he heard a too-cheery voice call out:

"Commander Prowl!"

He paused at the threshold of the door, debating whether or not to answer when his manners forced him to against his will.

"What."

That didn't mean he had to be polite about it.

Nonetheless, the Spec Ops mech wasn't deterred and happily trotted up to the commander. "It's good to see you out of your office. Aren't you going to stay?" He himself clutched a small cube of energon tight to his chestplates, seemingly afraid someone would steal it from him. The small presence of the mech's accent seemed almost strained, as if he was having trouble controlling it.

Prowl stared at the little Polyhexian, contemplating his question. He was about to answer in the negative before he somehow recognized the look in the other's visor, that same pleading look he'd seen so often on Praxian younglings when he still resided in his home city. "Perhaps another time," he hesitantly stated instead with a small nod of his helm.

The smaller mech deflated slightly with a nod, accepting the statement but asking anyway, "Can't you stay this time?"

"Perhaps next time," Prowl said again with another nod, actually meaning it.

Jazz smiled at the Praxian, apparently sensing the change in meaning. Prowl turned and strode out of the room, sensory panels a twitch higher than they'd been a moment ago. The rest of the Autobots in the room stared after Prowl, then at Jazz when he finally trotted back to the Special Operations table.

Jazz grinned back at them, "What?"


End file.
